The Wind
by dr pepper upper
Summary: Wendy tries to remember her times in Neverland and with Peter Pan, and despairs when she realizes that all she remembers is dream-like whispers of the memories, and is visited by the wind-voice that she so often hears.


He was beautiful, mystical... An enigma to everyone who knew his name.

Everyone but me. I once thought I could see through his many layers, and I might have been right. I was just a girl, but I found out so much simply by existing in the same world as him, the beautiful enigma. No one saw him as I did, and I knew that no one ever would. I knew all I _could_ know about him, which wasn't much, to be honest. He was always so good at pretending, I didn't know when he was being serious or not. I saw his emotions, though mostly anger, I also saw compassion, no matter how fleet that compassion was.

I flew with him on the wind's back. I was his mother, though that would never, _ever_ be enough. I fought pirates with him, I fought with he himself. I think I was the only one ever to get the courage to yell back at him when we got into a squabble. Oh, the tears run down my face as I think about the memories. Each night I sit by the fire, aging every second, and reminisce. When I left him that night, I knew I would never be the same. A part of me, a very big part, still resided in that magical place, in that beautiful boy's hands.

I had given him my secret kiss, and I still had that acorn button that he gave me so long ago. Or, was it really so long? It is hard to remember what is real and what is fantasy, how much time has passed... One can never know with Peter Pan and Never land I remember the night I first saw him as clear as if it was happening right now. I remember being asleep in my bed one moment, awake the next, and seeing that beautiful boy hovering over me. Even then, at that very first second, I couldn't stop my heart from speeding it's tempo and my cheeks heating up. I remember his sweet voice, the tone I could never resist, and I still probably would not be able to resist to this day.

Oh! What a great fool I am! You would think that I would be able to control my emotions, since I do this every night. But no, I always end up sobbing quietly by the fire, borrowing it's warmth and comfort, pretending that it is the beautiful enigma that is holding me safe and warm. However, it never is, and I just end up upsetting myself even more.

I cannot help but think of Never land and Peter, because if I don't, I fear that I may think it just a dream. It is something I promised I would never do – that I would always remember Peter Pan and our adventures in Never land I would tell stories so that he could hear them. I often did, and found myself looking at the window, just to see if he was there. I would always let my hopes plummet, however, because he was never there. He forgot about me, just like he said he wouldn't. I don't blame him. He _is_ just a boy, after all, and what am I to him? Just another adventure, and Peter Pan never remembers all his adventures.

At this thought, more tears make their way down my face, and my life just _tick tick ticks_ away, with each passing second. I found that I didn't want to grow up when I came back home. It felt like I was betraying him. I clung to childhood, even when I was on the brink of being a woman. My aunt does not understand it, and often gets frustrated. How many times have I apologized to the woman? More times than I can possibly count, but before she really gets started on me, my mother will always intervene, because she knows. She understands. Is she the only one? Peter took my kiss and my heart – I gave them to him willingly, but I could never get both back. I don't think he knew it, I don't know if he understood, and that just makes my situation all the more pitiful.

But often, when I cry such as this, I hear the wind whisper words to me. I hear them now, and they calm my sobs and stop my tears. _"Don't cry, Wendy-Lady. The wind, and the clouds remember when you flew on their backs. The stars remember when you tried to blow them out with the boy. They will never forget, never forget."_ I am quieted, and I wipe my tears. The wind-voice seems so much clearer tonight than ever before. The embers of the fire are dying, and I finally get up. My legs are stiff from sitting so long in one attitude, so I walk to the window, and open it. I don't know what my purpose is, but it is a fairly warm night, and my brothers are fast asleep. They will not awake, of that I am sure, so I have no quarrel with talking back to the wind-voice. It makes me feel less lonely, a little less forgotten. For, it is always hard to think of myself as forgotten, because it is the forgotten that are never remembered.

"Did I ride on a cloud's back? Oh, did I?" I ask wistfully, looking up at the sky with a longing ringing in my heart. "Oh, it feels as if it were a dream. Did my feet really leave the ground? Did I try and blow out stars, oh, wind, did I?" If my friends from school could hear me now, they would be worried. They already worry about me, for I do not try and curl my hair, I do not put on makeup, I do not giggle at the boys. I cling to my stories, my mother, my childhood, on the brink of being a woman. Those who grow up too fast are foolish, to me. Childhood is the only great part of life, and I was leaving it, no matter how reluctantly.

"_You did, oh you did. Do you not remember? Do you not recall? You were free, once, free as a bird. You could fly as gracefully as the most graceful bird, do you remember? Oh, Wendy-lady, do you not recall it? You said you'd remember, always. You promised. Do you hold true to the promise you made?"_ The wind-voice was so clear, so sure, so _near_. I couldn't come up with my answer quickly, but I tried to remember. In reality, it had been a couple of years since I had been on my adventure, but years erode one's memory, and I couldn't lie.

"I doubt if I did. John doubts it, too. Only Michael says we did. I feel as if I did make a promise, so long ago. I don't know if I can keep it, now. No one will listen to my stories, everyone calls me childish. Is it so wrong to want to stay young for as long as I can? Is it wrong to dream of a different, wonderful place?" Oh, I wanted answers, answers that I'd never been able to give myself. Stars wink down at me, and even they seem to whisper something, something that I am not able to make out. Wind blows through my hair, and I imagine that I was flying.

"_Do you remember now? Do you remember the way it felt to fly with me? Tell me you do, tell me you remember. You said you'd never forget, and I said so, too. Please, Wendy, look for Never land, and look hard. If you are still true to it, if you still love it, you'll see it."_ The voice was pleading, urgent, and the stars whispers their echo to it. I close my eyes and search for what the wind-voice was describing, but all I saw was the back of my eyelids.

"I can't see anything," I say, voice cracking with despair. But, the voice persists, growing stronger and stronger, more and more confident by the second.

"_Look not with your eyes, but with your heart. You will see it."_ I do as told, and after a few moments, a flash of bright colors makes my eyes snap open and my heart begin to pound. I cannot help the smile that spreads across my face, and I laugh with pure and utter joy, something I have not done in quite a long time.

"I saw it, I really saw it!" I exclaim to the voice, which laughs lightly as well.

"_You still love Never land, and Never land still loves you." _There is a certain something in the voice that catches my attention, and I lean against the window's balcony. I continue to look up at the sky, completely unaware of the pair of bright, green eyes looking down on me from above the rooftop. _"You were there, Wendy. You fought pirates, you were the Lost Boy's mother. It was not a dream, nor will it ever be. Remember, Wendy-lady, for me." _I realize that those are the wind-voice's parting words, and I sigh. I don't want to be alone, not really. The voice reminds me of something or someone, a vague memory... But I can't put my finger on it.

As the wind blows on my face again, I close my eyes and smile. I plan to stay there for a while, but soon my eyes shoot open with a start when I feel something being pressed into my hand. It was quick and light, and I was curious. Opening my pale hand, I couldn't help but gasp and pull my hand over my beating-too-fast heart, as color rose in my cheeks once again. In my hand, was a little acorn button, almost identical to the one I had in my drawer already. This time, I cannot help the girlish giggle that escapes my lips as I hold my treasure, my anchor to my other home, close to my heart.

"_I will be back soon. I promise."_ I smile as I hear the stars whisper, "Now, Peter," and I know that he is gone. Still smiling, I step back into the room and close the window once more. After putting my new kiss in the drawer next to my old one, I slip into my bed and drift off to pleasant dreams with that promise still being whispered in my mind, echoing, echoing, echoing.


End file.
